


Travel

by Duckay



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:00:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8192941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duckay/pseuds/Duckay
Summary: Fandango is thrilled to pick his boyfriend up from his overseas trip, but he doesn't know what to do with Tyler's strange choice of ways to communicate his bad mood.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the September 6 SmackDown, where Tyler Breeze was in Dubai so Fandango finds someone else to 'tango with Fandango' and ends up in a confrontation with the demon Kane.

There were very few things in the world that were more gorgeous than baseline Tyler Breeze, in Fandango’s considered, measured and heavily researched opinion.

That list was reduced to absolutely nothing he could think of at all when he met Tyler at the airport after his trip to Dubai. It wasn’t that Tyler looked better than usual as such; for all that Tyler didn’t require beauty sleep, there was a certain weariness in his eyes after fifteen hours of travel that made it quite difficult to achieve maximum gorgeliciousness. Still, that all faded away the moment that their eyes met. There was an expression that Tyler got sometimes, where his eyes went wide and bright and his mouth shifted into a smile so wide it looked like it couldn’t possibly fit his face, and no one in the world but Prince Pretty could possibly hope to make that look good. On him, it looked exceptional. Like nothing in the world mattered except what he was looking at.

Tyler dropped his carry-on bag unceremoniously on the ground by his feet as he launched himself into Fandango’s arms for a warm embrace, holding onto him so tightly it was almost painful. It was like a romantic movie, if the two leads were astonishingly good-looking. Fandango resisted the urge to go for the full-on twirl, because if Tyler didn’t cooperate that might just ruin the moment, but nothing could have stopped him wrapping his arms tightly around his boyfriend, peppering soft kisses everywhere he could easily reach.

“I missed you.” The words were probably unnecessary, but he couldn’t help himself but to mumble them into Tyler’s ear - or, more accurately, his hair, which was somehow where his mouth had ended up. Close as they were, he felt more than heard Tyler’s chuckle in response.

“I’m still mad at you,” Tyler whispered, though he punctuated the comment by biting gently at Fandango’s earlobe, pulling away from the hug.

For a moment, Fandango thought he must have misheard, but he couldn’t think of any other combination of words that Tyler might have actually meant instead. Tyler didn’t  _ look _ mad, his giant grin having faded to a warm smile as he leaned down to pick up his carry-on bag, and this was Tyler, who never wasted even a second before letting the entire world know about his emotional state. But was there just a hint of something behind his eyes, hidden behind the jetlag and his happiness at their reunion?

Fandango realized that he still didn’t know Tyler well enough to know, and that poured metaphorical ice water right over him.

Tyler didn’t say anything else on the subject as he made his way over to baggage claim to fetch his checked bags, and so Fandango didn’t ask. He couldn’t help but watch Tyler a little more closely than usual, but there was no further sign of what Tyler could possibly have meant by that whisper. Oh, Tyler’s mood faded a little from the heights it had soared to when they first saw each other, but that was in no way unexpected. Tyler was tired and had every reason to be grouchy, so under any other circumstances, it would have been entirely unremarkable.

Was Fandango reading too much into it, or did Tyler actually look a little  _ more _ understanding than usual? He was complaining about the time baggage took, and telling stories about inattentive flight attendants, but there was a faint smile underneath it all, like he was striving to not let himself get lost in unpleasantness. Since when did Tyler care about that? That was probably not a good sign.

By the time they were halfway home, however, Fandango had almost let himself forget about that enigmatic little whisper. Tyler spent most of the drive gazing out the window in absent silence, while his fingers traced distracting patterns up and down Fandango’s thigh. Only the faintest hint of a mischievous smile indicated that Tyler even realized what he was doing. When their eyes met, at a traffic light not far from their destination, Tyler smiled a little more widely, then withdrew his hand to curl it up almost primly in his own lap.

The little tease.

They unpacked the car in a fairly easy silence, though Fandango couldn’t help but notice that Tyler had left him the heaviest bag. That might not have been passive-aggression, though. Tyler always leapt at the opportunity to make someone else do things for him. That was just Tyler.

Tyler was on him again as soon as their hands were free, capturing his lips in a warm kiss and pulling Fandango’s arms by the wrists down to his waist. The kiss was hot and demanding, and there seemed to be a lot of layers in it that Fandango couldn't unpick, under the circumstances. When they parted, Tyler looked apologetic, and that seemed so bizarre that it made Fandango’s heart start pounding all the harder again.

“My skin feels like airplane,” Tyler explained softly, though he leaned in for another quick kiss before he went on, “and I think I missed you too much.” That was sweet enough that Fandango dropped his head slightly and smiled into the curve of Tyler’s neck, almost missing the words that followed. “So can we have the argument later?”

Fandango could feel his body tense up at those words, and he was quite sure that Tyler could feel it too, judging from the almost exasperated sigh. Of course, having gone three months without having seen this side of him, whatever it was must have been a long time coming. He would have felt more comfortable, infinitely so, if he had even the faintest idea what he'd done to make Tyler mad, what it was that they were supposed to be arguing about. For that matter, it would have helped to know why Tyler was so relaxed about it all. Why Tyler was holding back his emotion instead of making everyone around him experiencing it. Why Tyler obviously expected that it was an argument that they both knew needed to happen, but was still prepared to hold onto it until after he'd gotten settled back home.

None of it made sense, and that was more stressful than if Tyler had just yelled at him.

Before he could muster a response, Tyler had taken him by the hand to lead him towards the bathroom. That, at least, was something he could understand, even if he didn't quite know why.

Under the hot water, it was hard to remain tense, especially when Tyler was so close and still showing him such affection. His hands skated over almost every inch of Fandango’s body, soft and almost reverent, with just an occasional roughness that hinted at all the ways Tyler might have missed him while abroad. Not even the promise of an argument about something Fandango couldn't even begin to guess at could make him keep his hands to himself when Tyler was so eager, so present, so close.

One of Tyler's hands fumbled for the tap as his other clutched at the back of Fandango’s neck, and he murmured barely audible invitations against Fandango’s mouth. They were both still soaking wet as they collapsed together on top of Fandango’s blankets, having not even wasted the second to grab towels. Tyler was pinning Fandango shoulders down, and the reverence in his gaze seemed to have been replaced with a hunger.

“I want you.” The words seemed unnecessary; even if Fandango had no idea what Tyler had been thinking since the airport, that Tyler wanted sex was apparent. Tyler spoke with a hoarse urgency anyway. Fandango might not have needed to hear it, but for whatever reason, Tyler needed to say it. His fingers shook a little as they skated over Fandango’s jaw, before he continued, his voice rough with lust but bearing just a hint of uncertainty. “Any way you want me, okay?”

“You know I -” Fandango began, though he wasn't quite sure where the end of that sentence was going. You know I always want you, maybe. You know I want whatever you want. If Tyler hadn't said he was mad - not that the offer would be on the table if Tyler wasn't in a mood - he might have asked for something bizarre, made Tyler scrunch up his nose and laugh and admit that ‘any way’ was a lot narrower than he’d implied. Before he could find out for sure where his mouth was taking him, Tyler’s fingers were there, silencing him, and the blond was shaking his head firmly. That showered Fandango in tiny water droplets, but it felt wrong to laugh about it.

“Any way you want me,” he repeated, his eyes wide and intense, and the only way that Fandango could think to describe it was that it seemed important to Tyler that Fandango understand, even though he didn't know why.

Before he could wonder any longer, Tyler was kissing him again, and there was nothing for it but to melt into his touch, lips telling stories against his tan skin, hands exploring the by now familiar planes of his body. Tyler whined underneath him, eyes opening wide and daring, the way he did when he felt Fandango was treating him too much like a breakable treasure and he wanted more, and there was nothing to do but oblige. 

After sex, Tyler was usually the most energetic person Fandango had ever seen, because Tyler didn't respond the way most people did to anything, apparently. That meant it was no surprise when he leapt out of the bed and back into the bathroom almost as soon as they were done. In Tyler’s absence, the post-sex haze faded into something much more foreboding. 

Tyler made his way back into the bedroom a few minutes later, hair combed out of his face, and body wrapped up in a robe. He perched on the end of the bed, and though his expression was still serious, it lacked the same urgency it had before. It was closer to what Fandango would have expected from Tyler preparing for an argument, especially when the words started to flow and the barely concealed venom became apparent.

“Do you want to tell me about SmackDown, then?”

It took a moment for the events of the previous week’s SmackDown to replay in Fandango’s mind, and his eyes closed in recollection. When they reopened, Tyler was staring at him, his eyes full of frank judgement.

“I saw, you know. SmackDown airs in, like, 40 countries, and Dubai is one of them.”

Something about what Tyler said seemed inaccurate, but Fandango wasn't sure enough to correct him. Not to mention, the look Tyler was giving him was not one that he felt comfortable correcting, even if he had been certain.

But SmackDown - what about SmackDown would put Tyler in such a mood?

“What do you mean?” He eventually asked, voice soft. He hoped his expression looked as earnest as he felt. The events of that night replayed over and over in his mind. It had been weird, being there without Tyler, and facing off with Kane was a lot less exciting than he'd expected. Tyler's lips were pursed in irritation, though, and his face plainly told the tale that he wasn't buying Fandango’s response for a moment.

“Think hard.” His voice was quiet, and almost mocking. “Did anything at all happen that night that your  _ boyfriend _ might be upset about?”

The strange way he emphasised the word ‘boyfriend’ had Fandango’s mind racing all the faster. A memory surfaced like an alligator in still water.

“Tyler,” he began softly, reaching out with one hand for him. Tyler didn't lean into the touch, but he didn't move away either. That might have been a good sign.

“I don't own you.” Tyler’s voice was clipped, and Fandango couldn’t help but wonder what the unsaid words that surrounded that statement had been. “I can’t stop you. Just tell me, do I have to expect that in the future?” There was just the tiniest waver in his voice, emotion almost, but not quite, breaking through. “Is that going to happen every time I go out of town?”

Fandango couldn’t help himself but to reach further still and cup Tyler’s cheek in his hand. There was a slight jump in his muscles, not enough to be called a cringe, but present anyway at the contact. But he didn’t pull away, even as Fandango’s thumb traced a slow line over his cheek, cradled his jaw. If there was anything he knew his Prince Pretty could do, it was hold back emotion, lock it down, and pretend it didn’t exist, and that was what he was seeing. The longer he held the eye contact, fingers skating softly over his skin, he could see the walls breaking down, piece by piece.

He wanted to say, it didn’t mean anything. He wanted to say, that’s just who I am, that’s just how I talk to women. To people. Nothing happened, just a flirty little comment or two.

Instead, he said, “I didn’t know it would upset you like that.”

That wasn’t any better. It felt like a cop-out. How could he have not known?

“I didn’t like it.” Tyler’s voice shook, just a little bit, before he locked that down as well. “Not when I’m not there. Not behind my back.”

There were even more things he could have said, wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead, he slowly shook his head, brushing his thumb just under Tyler’s eye. It was the closest thing to affection he felt he was allowed, so he took it.

“Okay, I promise.”

“Don’t promise.” Tyler made a face, shaking Fandango’s hand loose from his cheek. “Because you’ll do it again, you won’t even realize what you’re doing.”

That was probably true, but there was no call to go saying it.

“So what do you want?”

A long moment of silence stretched between them. Slowly, carefully, Tyler clasped his hand around Fandango’s wrist, and raised it to his face again.

“Just try for me.”

For a moment, one bizarre moment, Fandango thought Tyler might start to cry. But then, the moment was gone, and instead, Tyler was smiling. It was a bit of a thin smile, not as bright as he knew Tyler could look, but it was there, and comforting, and so maybe that was all he needed.

When Tyler leaned forward to close the distance between them with a soft kiss, Fandango felt himself smiling again as well. So he could survive an argument after all. Interesting.

“Do I need to make it up to you?” He murmured as Tyler pulled away, voice pitched low and just a tiny bit suggestive. Tyler’s nose wrinkled, the way it always did when he was being ridiculous.

“We did that part first, remember? No, I’m going to sleep. Dubai, remember?”

Tyler crawled up towards the pillows, nestling himself by Fandango’s side, eyes drifting closed. For a moment, he looked calm and contented, but then one of his eyes winked open, and his lip quirked into a slightly teasing smirk.

“You can hold me if you like. If you think that will make you feel better.”


End file.
